What Happens In Vegas
by readbetweenthesigns
Summary: An alternate version of Nationals 2012...what can happen when a bunch of teenagers are left unsupervised on their first night in Vegas, with a little bit of light-hearted fantasy thrown in... M for content and language. *One shot* Complete.


**Disclaimer: Ownership is neither claimed nor implied.**

**A/N: "...and this time, for real, Elvis **_**has **_**left the building..."**

"Puck," Finn hissed in a harsh whisper. "Puck," he said a little louder. "Dammit, dude, wake up," he shouted beside Puck's ear. "Jesus, at least pull the freakin' covers up," he groaned and yanked a sheet from the bed opposite, tossing it over Puck. "I really do not want to see your naked ass."

"Go'way," Puck mumbled without opening his eyes, he flicked his hand across his face as though trying to whisk away a pesky fly. Puck shifted in his bed, his _shared_ bed, and felt slightly weird when he realised that whoever had shared with him, was tucked right up to him, right in his arms and in fact, had thrown a leg over his hip. And was _naked_. And so was...oh crap, Finn's words were slowly penetrating his brain. "How wasted were we last night?" Puck asked with a gulp as he looked through slitted eyelids and found a blonde head tucked under his chin. Thank God the blonde appeared to be female. Yep, that was definitely a pair of juicy boobs mashed against his chest and his dick was buried deep, deep inside a throbbing, pulsing...oh crap, this was a shared room, shared with the rest of the guys, the girls had their own room, and Finn had just covered them up. Oh crap. Talk about exhibitionism! Puck's eyes closed again, he swallowed hard and considered the wisdom of moving, till he realised that he was firmly embedded. Rock hard and embedded deep, deep within this willing, at least he hoped that she was willing, girl. Puck resisted the urge to rock even deeper into her. Just. His hand, of it's own accord, slid down her smooth back to cup and shape a beautifully formed and perfectly toned buttock. A familiar buttock.

"Very," Finn answered, reminding Puck that he was still in the room. "Errm, Puck, errm there's something you should probably know," he added uncomfortably. "Do you remember much about last night at all?" he asked, changing tack slightly, still keeping his eyes towards the floor, keeping his glance determinedly away from Puck and his oblivious bed mate.

"We drank a lot of vodka," Puck replied huskily and pressed his thumb and forefinger to his eyes, he tried to open them and blink away the sharp pain behind them. "A real lot of vodka if memory serves," he mumbled and tried to clear the dried up 'bottom of the bird cage' feeling from his furry tongue.

"Yes, yes we did," Finn agreed, relieved that Puck remembered that at least, it was a start. "And do you remember anything else?" he asked, still not making any attempt to look in Puck's direction.

"I remember Elvis being in the building," Puck answered, wondering now if that was true or if that was just part of the jumbled up, drunken dream that he'd obviously experienced. Well, it wasn't the first time he'd woken up without any memories of the previous twenty four hours, things usually came back, slowly. No biggie.

"Stop talking," the blonde in Puck's arms whined. She undulated a little.

Puck sucked in a breath. "Jeez, fuck, stay still, don't, ahh, don't do that right now, ahh," he groaned. That hurt more than he would have expected. He didn't actually understand how he was this hard. Yes, he usually woke up with a boner and he often took care of that himself, unless he was lucky enough to wake up with someone, and then she might oblige. Quinn had been a dab hand at that when she lived with him, not that she ever admitted that she'd done that to give him relief almost every morning. Puck started to turn over, to pull out of this girl's arms and found he couldn't. He was stuck.

"Look, they all nominated me to be the one to come in and wake you two," Finn announced uncomfortably, and although he was happier that they were now covered up, he was still embarrassed that he knew exactly what was going on under the covers right now. "We just want to know how much you remember," he said and sat on the bed opposite.

Puck looked over the blonde head to Finn. "Not too much," he admitted. He looked down at the girl again and nudged her. "I think we both need to move, babe," he said, mumbling the words into her hair. "Quinn, come on," he said and again tried to pull away. "Jeez, what the fuck?" he demanded. "What's going on?" he asked, they were definitely stuck together, it was like a Chinese finger trap, the more he pulled, the tighter she gripped.

"Errm, do you remember making fun of that Elvis impersonator dude last night?" Finn asked, rubbing has hands up and down his thighs as he talked.

"Ye-es," Puck replied uncertainly, he thought he might remember that. Maybe. Possibly. Perhaps.

"And do you remember the woman with him? The one who said she was a witch?" Finn asked.

"Errm, not so much," Puck answered, he was starting to get a bad feeling about this. A real bad feeling. Not to mention that his dick felt like it was about to fall off. "Jeez, Q, could you stop that? Seriously, if you don't I'm going to go off like fucking Vesuvius," he warned.

"I'm not doing anything, it's like I can't help it, all my body is twitching on the inside, it's just doing it. And my head hurts," Quinn complained with a pout. "And my..." she whispered into his ear which actually set off more tremors in both of them.

"Fuck, Jesus," Puck groaned as his body went into spasm, he felt himself ejaculate but there didn't seem to be any softening, any relief.

Quinn felt his sperm hit her walls inside, felt the heat in his fluid. She felt her cervix contract, felt her own answering reaction to his release. "Jeez, Puck, condom?" she hissed through clenched teeth, they both ignored Finn's cry of "eewwww".

"Don't think so," Puck murmured back apologetically, he tried again to pull out. "Fuck, are we stuck or something?" he demanded when nothing he did seemed to work. Puck's dick was still at maximum strength and he felt like he could blow again at any second. "What is this?" he cried, getting very agitated when he couldn't separate from her. Quinn held in a scream but he was hurting her too. "Fuck, did someone spike the vodka with fucking Viagra or something?" Puck complained. "What the fuck is going on? Do you know?" he demanded of Finn.

"Look, last night you two got married then made fun of Elvis and his witch wife," Finn explained in a rush. "You told the woman that you would be happy for your dick to be inside of Quinn for forever and you agreed," he told Quinn. "The woman said some words, told you she'd cursed you and here you are. You both got tattooed too, by the way, just in case your arms are stinging, right, that's it, I'm done, I'm out of here and good luck on not knocking her up," he finished and almost bolted for the door.

"What?" Puck and Quinn screeched together as Finn fled the scene. "What the fuck?" Puck asked quieter, looking Quinn in the eyes. "Do you remember any of this?" he asked desperately.

"Some, I think," Quinn answered tearfully. "I know there was lots of vodka involved, jelly shots I think and maybe some tequila, I remember licking salt off your...oh God, I didn't, did I? I did not do that, not in front of everyone like that, did I?" she begged with a gulp. Puck couldn't help her there, he thought he might have a vague memory of a blow job, but he wasn't sure. "And oh God, I remember us sneaking out to find a chapel," she whispered with her hands over her eyes.

"Oh crap, Elvis," Puck added as a few more flashbacks hit his severely hampered memory. "He sang it, didn't he? Or did I imagine that?" he asked, Puck had little more than a misty, befuddled memory of an elderly man, dressed like Elvis, singing a marriage service at them and at the end, when all their friends had applauded, he remembered the guy giving the traditional 'thank you very much'. "But it wasn't real, though was it? It was just a fake thing, a joke, right?" he asked worriedly. Surely no one in their right mind would have actually married two obviously drunken teenagers. Surely. Why oh why had the organisers thought that Vegas was anything like a good idea when they were deciding where to hold Nationals?

"I still don't get why you can't..." Quinn muttered and tried to pull away. They both screamed out in pain.

"Fuck, Quinn, don't _do_ that," Puck insisted, he'd broken out in a sweat, he felt for sure that his dick was going to rip off just above his balls. "Shit," he suddenly cried, he'd just realised what Finn had said when his eyes caught sight of something that definitely had not been there when they left Lima. "Tattoos?" he demanded as he noticed the one on his finger. 'Mr.' "Oh crap, look," he said, pulling Quinn's left hand up too. On her ring finger, where she hoped that someday her future husband would lovingly, tenderly place an exceedingly expensive diamond ring, was the word 'Mrs.' "Oh, balls," Puck breathed as he saw the beautifully scripted phrase down the inside of Quinn's right forearm. "Shit," he added when he realised he had a matching piece of artwork, perfectly carved into the skin of his right forearm.

"Oh fuck," Quinn breathed. "My mom is going to kill me," she added, wide eyed, she turned her scared look on Puck. "She's going to kill you too."

"Oh, ya think?" Puck mocked. "Like Mr Schue isn't going to have first crack at us if we can't get out of this bed and get on that stage any time soon?" he demanded. "My mom is going to be so pissed at this," he whispered to himself, his mom had said for years that she hated tattoos and if he ever came home with one, he would be in serious trouble.

"What does it say?" Quinn demanded, trying to twist her own arm to see it better. "Please don't be anything rude or insulting," she begged silently.

"'Till my last day'," Puck read quietly. "This one says, 'Till my last breath'," he added, indicating the script down his own arm. "At least they're in Hebrew, that might calm my mom down a little," he added hopefully. "Yeah, some hope, shit for brains," his brain mockingly answered him.

"There's got to be some way," Quinn insisted and tried to pull back, trying again to break free.

"For fuck's sake, will you stop that?" Puck yelled. "Are you _trying_ to rip my dick off?" he demanded. "Or will that just be a happy by-product?" he growled sarcastically. "You should get a vasectomy," he mimicked childishly, repeating Quinn's words from a couple of years ago. "I won't fucking need one if you rip my fucking dick off," he grumbled at her.

"Are you done?" Quinn asked with barely held patience. "Because let me tell you now, this is not the most comfortable I have ever been in my life," she informed Puck. "It's ok for a while, but this must have been going on for hours. You try lying here with a piece of someone else shoved up inside your nether regions," she griped, mumbling more to herself than to Puck, she just wanted him to know that he wasn't the only one who was uncomfortable. "And actually, it's beginning to feel as uncomfortable as when Beth was born.

"There isn't _ever_ going to be a piece of someone else shoved up my _anywhere_," Puck assured Quinn firmly. "Ever," he repeated, just to be sure she got it. "And I might have known that you'd bring up Beth, you always do when you want to make me feel like crap. Newsflash, I already feel like shit, you don't need to add anymore, ok?"

"Well, do you think you can concentrate and get the piece of _you_ that's in _me_, _out_ of me?" Quinn asked with sugar-coated sarcasm. Quinn wondered how the hell she had actually ended up here, she really wasn't feeling her best, she had the mother of all hangovers and she knew, she just _knew_ that when she eventually did get Puck out of her, she was going to need an icepack to cool her down. She possibly wouldn't be able to walk straight for twenty four hours. At least.

"Ok, so what did the woman say? Can you remember?" Puck asked, he closed his eyes to try to concentrate. "It was something like...something like...Love's entangled...something, something...something, something...true love...something, crap I can't remember," he sighed, with a hint of a sob, he pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes to help him to focus.

"Love's eternal dream, entangled limb to limb, fire and desire...oh crap, I almost had it," Quinn cried, she'd felt so close to remembering what the woman had said.

"Contain the love within," Puck finished. Quinn nodded as she said the words over again in her head. There was something else too, something the woman said, it was just out of her reach right now, but maybe if she ignored it, it would spring into her mind, Quinn had a feeling it would be the key to them finding their release.

"Puck, Quinn, this is not funny, get up. Now, right now," Mr Schue demanded as he burst into the room without knocking.

"Mr Schue, we would love to do that," Puck assured the teacher, he motioned towards their lower bodies hidden under the sheet, while curving over Quinn to protect her from anyone's gaze. "We're a bit stuck, it's just not working right now," he said, completely embarrassed, Quinn was flame red in the face, Puck could feel the heat radiating from her into his chest where she was hiding her face. "It's a good job I love you if I'm going to be stuck with you for forever," he murmured and tightened his arms around her, giving her some comfort.

"It's a good job I love you too," Quinn replied, and couldn't resist just reaching up for a tiny little peck on his lips, the lightest, friendliest kiss. "I'm glad you were my first," she whispered.

"You were a first for me too," Puck said quietly. "You were the first girl I ever fell in love with," he admitted as something triggered in his brain, something the old woman had said, it was a bit like Princess Fiona and love's true form or something. "And I still am in love with you," he sighed and closed his eyes in satisfaction, satisfied that finally, after almost three years, he'd finally told her how he really felt.

"You have been my first in so many ways," Quinn told Puck with a grin, her arms wound around his neck as his wrapped around her waist. "The first boy to ever enter my bedroom, definitely the first to have ever laid on my bed, the first boy to kiss me like he meant it, the first boy to see me naked, to touch my boobs..."

"These boobs?" Puck murmured and dipped to take a pouting nipple in his mouth.

"Woah, guys, I'm still here," Mr Schue shouted, freaked out and scandalised, he looked towards the open door. Neither Puck nor Quinn were aware of their audience, or if they were, they were damn good actors.

"...to ever touch me there, that's for sure," Quinn grinned as Puck rocked against her once more, she carried on talking as if no one had butted in. "And you are the very first person I fell in love with, you are the first person I think about when I wake up and the last one I think about before I go to sleep. It scares me that very soon I won't be near you, near enough for you to come over and climb the drain pipe outside my room, near enough for me to sneak into your house when your mom is working late. I love you and I need you in my life," she finished simply. "Oh," they both said in surprise as their bodies' grip on each other finally released. "Oh my God," Quinn cried and threw herself further into Puck's arms, her body tight against him, she felt his dick between them and was rather thankful that it wasn't still lodged inside her, but strangely enough, she missed it already, missed the feeling of fullness.

* * *

"Can you walk?" Puck teased lightly as he came up behind Quinn while she read the menu in the window of the diner where they were all meeting for lunch.

"Not without limping," Quinn replied with a slight smirk. "Did you get hold of your mom yet?" she asked.

"Hmm," Puck replied. "Did you get yours? What did she say?" he asked at Quinn's nod.

"She said that she's getting the first flight out," she told Puck worriedly. "Be prepared," she advised.

"I think my mom was more pissed about the tattoos," Puck admitted with a shrug. He didn't think that telling Quinn that his mom had said he was just saving himself ten years of heartache by marrying her now instead of waiting till she finally realised she loved him too, was a particularly good idea, they both thought they'd hidden their true feelings from everyone, especially each other. "She's flying out too."

"Is Mr Schue talking to us yet?" Quinn asked to break the silence as Puck read the menu over her shoulder. She turned around. "Let's just brave it and go inside, what are they going to do? Besides laugh at us and mock us? So what's new?" she asked with a shrug.

"Ok, ready to face the music, wifey?" Puck grinned and held his hand out for her to take.

"As I'll ever be," Quinn answered and took Puck's hand.

"Hey," Finn called as Puck and Quinn walked into the diner, hand in hand. "Looks all rosy in paradise," he fished.

"We're cool," Puck replied. "We talked to our moms, after we found the chapel and found that it was real, it wasn't a joke and yes, Elvis really did marry us, thank you very much," he quipped. "So, anyway, the moms are getting a flight out here, today if they can, and we'll probably get shot or something," he added, trying to appear not worried. Puck was very worried. "Maybe you could beg for a stay of execution till after Nationals, Mr Schue," he suggested, Mr Schue nodded with a tight grin.

"Can I ask you something?" Mr Schue said quietly to Finn as Puck and Quinn took seats at the same table as Sam, Mercedes, Brittany, Santana, Mike and Tina. Finn nodded. "Where did all you guys sleep? You didn't sleep in that room with them, did you?" he asked, grossed out beyond belief.

"No, no we crashed in the rehearsal room, Kurt crashed with the girls though, he said he needed a proper bed for his beauty sleep. We didn't think you'd mind that," Finn explained.

"Fine, fine, that's fine," Mr Schue answered in relief, he had been so afraid that poor Puck and Quinn, who apparently, if he was to believe the story he was being told, had been bewitched and had been unable to do anything to either control themselves or to separate. Not that Mr Schue actually believed in witchcraft per se. "But stranger things have happened," he reminded himself and tried to control the shudder that slipped down his spine.

"Mr Schue," Puck called across the diner to the other table. "My mom just text me, their flight gets in at eight twenty five tonight, I really think that we should go and meet them, do you mind if we skip that last rehearsal tonight?" he asked. Quinn gave Puck's thigh a nervous squeeze under the table.

"I think it might be a very wise idea," Mr Schue agreed immediately. Then if 'the moms' as Puck called them, decided to murder two of his students, it would happen well away from him and the rest of the group. Clear conscience. "Yeah right, who are you trying to kid?" he asked himself.

* * *

"I still think that they are going to kill us," Quinn muttered, she shivered again into Puck's chest as he sighed and drew her close.

"We have to plan how we're going to tell them what we've decided to do," Puck reminded her. "Is it better to just come straight out with it?" he pondered.

"Straight out with what?" Judy Fabray demanded from behind Puck. Puck and Quinn spun to face two pissed off mothers. Exceedingly pissed off mothers. Like, beyond anything they had ever seen before even when they had done something incredibly stupid, pissed off mothers.

"Oh, crap," Puck muttered in surprise then recovered quickly. "Errm, well, you're early, I didn't even hear your flight announced," he said, making small talk until he could string the words together that he knew was going to piss the ladies off even more.

"That's because we got an earlier flight out of Cleveland," Rosa Puckerman informed her son and watched him swallow repeatedly. "So, do you want to tell us what's going on?" she asked.

"What? Here? Now?" Quinn asked, shifting just as nervously as Puck.

"No time like the present," Judy replied. She looked around the arrivals lounge and spotted a sparsely populated café. "That will do," she decided and headed that way, expecting everyone to follow her. Rosa did so immediately, Puck and Quinn glanced and sent silent eye messages to each other before they followed.

"Oh fuck. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck," Puck thought to himself. "This is it, this is where I end my stupid days, in the desert, as bird food. And they would have gotten away with it too, if it wasn't for those meddling kids," he added, the Scooby Doo line appearing in his brain for no good reason.

"So, do we want to know why you came to Las Vegas for a singing competition and ended up married?" Judy asked once the waitress had poured coffee for all four of them.

"Did you plan this? Was it..." Rosa started but was interrupted by Puck.

"No, look, this wasn't planned, we didn't mean for this to happen," Puck explained intently, leaning towards the two mothers. He glanced at Quinn at his side. "Did we?" he asked her, wishing she would contribute.

"No we didn't," Quinn agreed. "See, what happened was," she began to explain, "well, we sort of decided to party the first night here, we had already decided _that _before we left home, we were going to party the first night and one thing led to another, we had some drinks, then a few more," she said, hoping that her mother wasn't going to go off at the deep end.

"Drinks?" Judy asked, her tone slightly disgusted. "You are eighteen years old, you are under age, both of you," she reminded them, as if they weren't fully aware of that fact. "And might I remind you what happened the last time you were drinking together?" she hissed, giving Puck a narrowed eyed stare.

"Berry's party? What happened then?" Puck asked Quinn. Again he had a vague memory of some sort of party game, of being in a closet with Quinn, he thought he remembered that his fingers had been very busy and she had definitely had a few minutes in heaven, but, if he remembered correctly, their time was up just as her hand had closed around his dick and administered the first stroke, so he had totally been left hanging till his next turn when he'd drawn Santana and she had definitely given him a blow job. An amazing blow job, actually. And then there was possibly some boob action with Tina, he seemed to remember that bit and then there was something else with Quinn...oh crap, yes, and he possibly still had those panties in his spank box under his bed. "Did we...?" he asked, he was still a little unsure of the details.

"Oh, no, not full," Quinn replied, realising what he was asking. "Close though," she added with a wink.

"And you were dating someone else at the time, Noah," Rosa reminded him, she and Judy had discussed a few things on the flight. "But I think that Judy is referring to the infamous..." she started to say.

"Oh, right. That time," Puck butted in quickly. "Yeah, we do tend to get stupid when alcohol is involved," he agreed, he thought it was better to agree than to argue with both of them.

"Get stupid?" Rosa repeated. "_Get stupid?_" she hissed, leaning over the table to give Puck the dead eye. "So far you've managed to get pregnant and get married while under the influence of alcohol, and you're still only eighteen years old. God help us by the time you're twenty one and you can drink legally," she exclaimed.

"So what do you plan to do?" Judy asked, crossing her arms and leaning back in her seat, she stared at both of them and didn't say another word. Puck and Quinn shuffled uncomfortably. They hadn't got that far along in their own discussions, they weren't really prepared to share with other people.

"There are a couple of options here," Rosa announced. "One, you can apply for a quickie divorce," she told them.

"Woah, hold it," Puck cried, raising his hands in the air. "We might have screwed up plenty of times but really? Divorced less than twenty four hours after getting married? Isn't that like doing a Britney?" he asked Quinn. "I don't know about you but I think we have a bit more class than that," he muttered. "I think we wouldn't have done this if we didn't think we could make it work, even if we were a little loaded when we actually said the words. I think we have something worth working on, don't you?" he said, looking at Quinn for her thoughts, he grasped her hand under the table for support.

"Yes," Quinn replied, slightly in wonderment. She was a little taken aback by herself because she thought she'd have jumped at the chance to get out quick - or get out _of _Quick - before anyone other than their closest friends found out about it. "Yes I do," she said softly.

"There you go little lady," a familiar voice behind Quinn, said. "I knew you wanted to do it really, I knew you two were made for each other, I knew you'd get it right. Glad to have been of service to you, thank you very much," the old guy said before walking away and heading to the United Airlines desk.

"Was that who I think it was?" Judy demanded, her face a picture of shock.

"Mmm," Quinn nodded with her nose screwed up. "Yeah, that was the Elvis who married us," she informed their parents. "Tacky, I know, but hey, this is Vegas," she said with a hopeful grin. Quinn looked at Puck and bit her lip, she tried to hold the smile. "So we're doing this?" she asked.

"Yeah, I think so," Puck replied then swallowed nervously, he rubbed the back of Quinn's hand up and down his thigh. "Ok, so mom, you know that Quinn is going to Yale in the fall, I told you that, right?" he said, he was fairly certain he'd mentioned it at home before now but he was even more sure that Judy and his mom would have discussed it on the flight out. Now Puck had news to share with all of them, Quinn especially. "So, I applied to the City of New Haven Fire Department to get on their training program and I got accepted," he informed all three stunned women. "Depending on me graduating of course," he added in a rush when it seemed like no one was going to speak. "Say something," he pleaded, looking at his mom.

"A firefighter?" Rosa Puckerman repeated in shock.

"Well, I've always liked lighting stuff on fire, I thought I'd go the other route, you know, put fires out," Puck mumbled with an embarrassed shrug.

"Oh Noah, I am so proud of you," Rosa cried. "Oh, my baby, growing up," she said, she had to hold in the scream, she wanted to scream and shout, she wanted to tell the word that her son was not a loser, he was not a dick like his father, he was a man, taking responsibility for his life. And his wife. "Are you sure this is what you both want to do?" Rosa asked, staring intently at the young couple.

"Yes," Puck and Quinn nodded together, the relief on Quinn's face was obvious.

"Then I have nothing more to say," Rosa replied and sat back. "Judy?" she offered.

"Where do you plan to live?" Judy asked. "You won't be allowed to live together in residence," she advised, they had already arranged for Quinn's room at Yale.

"No, I know that," Quinn agreed. "We'll find somewhere to rent together, we'll work it out," she said with a shrug. Quinn couldn't believe how happy she felt, how settled, like she hadn't done in years, since well before her fall from grace, probably since the time she realised that 'playing golf' was her dad's excuse for leaving the house to be with his latest PYT and nothing whatsoever to do with hitting little balls around on grass.

"This is really what you both want?" Judy asked, scrutinising their faces for any sign of trouble.

"Yes it is," Puck and Quinn answered together, firmly and with certainty.

"Ok," Judy said. What more could she say?

* * *

"Ha ha ha," Puck mock laughed. "Yes, it's funny, laugh it up, one day it'll be you guys and I can't wait," he promised as he climbed into bed with Mike Chang.

"So what did your moms say about your tattoos?" Mike asked.

"Nothing, they didn't see them," Puck replied with a shrug. "I think they forgot about them with everything else that was going on. One shock at a time," he grinned. "And if there'd been more than one room available, at least they'd have booked a separate room for me and Quinn, as it was they got the last room and my mom has to share with Judy, bet that's going to be fun," he muttered the last part.

* * *

"I can't believe your moms have accepted everything," Tina said in surprise, she and Rachel were sat up against the headboard together, Quinn, Mercedes, Santana and Brittany were either sat at the bottom of the bed or lounged across it.

"They seem to have," Quinn answered with a slightly embarrassed shrug, she had her arms wrapped around her legs and her chin on her knees. "They still haven't seen the tattoos yet though," she admitted, she was still worried about that. "And at least they're going to stay for the competition on Friday," she told the girls.

"That's cool," Santana agreed, it would be nice to have some parental support for the work they did, all the hours of practice and arguing with Berry to get it right. "I'm a bit surprised that they didn't get you and your man a room of your own though," she added then turned to look at Quinn and smiled at the little flush on Quinn's face.

"There was only one room available and my mom and Rosa are sharing it," Quinn informed her friends. She'd rather hoped that her mom would have suggested that too, to give her and Puck a little privacy, a little honeymoon sort of thing, but with Nationals only two days away and a big poker competition, not to mention an Elvis-alike competition and the porn equivalent of the Oscars going on, Vegas was practically full to bursting and available hotel rooms were scarce.

"Never mind," Mercedes commiserated. "When we get home you'll be able to spend every night together," she said brightly.

"Hmm, but at who's house?" Quinn pondered to herself.

* * *

"Ready girls?" Mr Schue said in the wings seconds before the former Troubletones headed out on stage to begin New Directions' bid for glory. He rather liked the addition of the long satin gloves the girls had managed to obtain in order to hide Quinn's tattoos. "Santana, you have this lead nailed, it's yours, take it," he encouraged. "Go girls," he willed them silently once they were actually out there. "Oh God, is this what it's like to be a parent?" he asked himself. Mr Schue felt the glow of pride fill his body when the audience went nuts at the end of the first song. "Come on Rachel, bring the solo in for us," he instructed under his breath. "Oh, she is supreme at hitting and holding those notes," he added in admiration. "One more, just one more," he thought as again, the audience went mad for New Directions' choice. "This is it, this is it, I hope this is vintage enough," he mumbled, suddenly doubting himself and the choices they'd made in the numbers that they'd sung. "Oh God, they love it. The judges, the judges, Jeez, they're on their feet, I've never seen them do that before, oh this has _got _to be good," he congratulated himself and his team. "Stunning, you were all so fabulous, right on the money, just, perfection, every one of you, I can't thank you enough," he told his team, applauding them as they came off the stage towards him. "Let's go chill," he suggested and led the way to the dressing room.

"So you really think we did ok?" Puck asked Mr Schue.

"For someone who always oozes confidence, actually, he's probably the one who needs the most reassurance," Mr Schue realised. "Puck, each and every one of you was amazing, all three numbers were brilliant, can you get that?" he asked over his shoulder as someone knocked on the door.

"May we join you?" Judy Fabray asked before entering the room with Rosa Puckerman. "You were all wonderful," she sighed, her eyes just a little teary, she looked so proud.

"Thank you, mom," Quinn replied and went to hug her mom. Judy wrapped her arms around her daughter and held on tight.

"I wish I had come to see you perform sooner," Rosa admitted with a sad, apologetic look at her son. "You were wonderful out there, all of you," she told them earnestly.

"Thanks, mom," Puck said quietly and went to hug his mom too. Puck slipped his arm across Quinn's shoulder and stood side by side with her, chatting quietly with their parents while they waited for the judges decision along with the rest of the team.

* * *

"...and the winning team is...New Directions, National Show Choir Champions 2012," the MC shouted, his voice drowned out by screams, cheers, explosions, confetti canons, all manner of things.

"We did it, we did it, we did it," Mr Schue chanted in his head over and over again. "I knew we could do it, but I didn't think we'd done it, but we did, we did it," he muttered, confusing himself in his excitement. Mr Schue and Finn accepted the huge trophy on behalf of the team, everyone was still in absolute paroxysms of delight.

"See, I told you they'd be the ones," the Elvis-alike said from the private balcony, high up in the theatre. "I said and you didn't believe me, I told you, don't doubt me when it comes to singing, I am the king after all, thank you very much."

"Argh, king-shming," the other old man, the Sinatra-alike, groused. "Let's go see what fun we can have with the porn people, they've got to be more fun to play with than a bunch of school kids, and next time, you get to be the fucking witch, I hate being the witch, at least you like being the witch, you like the black hair, I hate having to be her," he grumbled. "We need to come up with better rhymes than that too, fucking love's eternal dream, entangled limb to limb, fire and desire, contain the love within, how fucking cheesy can you get? And even if they did work it out, eventually, they got to fuck all night long so at least they did it _my way_," he muttered smugly as they both disappeared into the atmosphere...


End file.
